


just another slow burn

by peraltiaghoe



Series: smutshotz [8]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hook-Up, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiaghoe/pseuds/peraltiaghoe
Summary: headcanoned that jake & amy hooked up once before season one happened and that brought us to this moment right here.set in 2011: a one shot in which i had to try really hard not to include jake singing Jeremih's 2009 contemporary r&b hit Birthday Sex
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Series: smutshotz [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784614
Comments: 22
Kudos: 114





	just another slow burn

**Author's Note:**

> title from State Champ's Slow Burn!! 
> 
> _'Cause you lit a match,_  
>  _With your nails on my back,_  
>  _And something tells me I'll never learn._  
>  _Just another slow burn._
> 
> _We set a fire at both ends with our best lines,_   
>  _And best intentions._   
>  _Let go of what we know,_   
>  _And make tonight our reinvention._
> 
> giant thank you to carissa and cagla for exploring this idea with me. this exists because of you!

He was late. 

Which, like, of course he was gonna be late. Probably nobody expected him to be on time, but in honor of him and Amy actually kind of being friends now, he was _trying_ to be on time. It had only taken them three years to get to the point where someone calling them friends wouldn’t make them both openly laugh. Even just a year earlier, he never would’ve believed it, but they _are_ friends. He’d already kind of dropped the ball and forgotten to get her a gift, which is how he came up with the perfect last minute gift for her—and also the reason he was showing up to Shaw’s half an hour late. 

He pulled his hood up around his head as he neared the door. He glanced at their usual table upon walking in. The whole squad was already over there, various drinks littered across the table, but Amy wasn’t with them. 

“Peralta?” Amy’s voice caught his attention. He followed her voice, smiling over at her when he found her at the bar. She tilted her head to the side when she got a better look at him. “Why are you wearing a hood? You’re always wearing a hoodie, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually wearing the hood.” 

“I didn’t know how else to wrap your gift.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “My gift is… you?” 

“Hold on, Santiago. Don’t get _too_ excited.” She rolled her eyes. _“I’m_ not the gift.” He pulled his hood down, grinning when her jaw dropped. “My hair is.” 

“Oh my god, you cut your hair!” She rushed over toward him, her hands reaching up to pull through his shorter curls, her smile stretching even wider. “I mean, this kind of feels like a gift for _you_ , because now I can’t make fun of your hair.” 

“Ah, so you like it?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “A good gift?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If getting partnered with you all the time has taught me anything, it’s that you’re incredibly forgetful and disorganized, but also pretty good at thinking on your feet. I know a classic _Jake Peralta covering for his forgetfulness_ situation when I see one.” She ruffled her fingers through his hair again, then tugged on the end of one curl a little harder. “I do like it, though.” 

“Hey, I didn’t forget!” She crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows incredulously. “Okay, _fine_ , I forgot. But I remembered before the party, so that should count for something! That’s why I was a little late, I had to wait in line for the haircut.” 

“Yeah, I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

“What?" He scrunched up his eyebrows. "Why wouldn’t I come? I mean, we’re friends, right?”

She laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Well c’mon, come get a drink. Everybody else is already a drink ahead of you, you’ll have to catch up.” 

He let himself be dragged over to the bar. 

“Hank!” Amy grinned over at him, her grip still firm on Jake’s arm. She looked down, seemingly realizing that and releasing him. “Oh, sorry. Can I get another shot, please? Same as before.” 

“9pm and Santiago’s already moved onto shots, huh? I’ll just have my regular—”

“Absolutely not,” Amy interrupted. “He’ll have the same thing I’m having, Hank.”

Hank nodded a greeting to Jake before turning to fill two glasses with some kind of brown liquor that Jake hoped wasn’t cinnamon flavored. He scoffed. “Birthday Amy is way bossier than regular Amy, and that’s saying something.” 

“Scully’s buying my drinks the whole time he’s here,” she informed him. “He got the first round for everyone, but since you weren’t here, birthday girl is making the executive decision that your first drink goes on Scully’s tab, too.” 

Hank set the shots down on the bar. 

“Alright, I’ll drink to that.” He and Amy both reached for their shots. 

_“Yeah you will.”_ They clinked their glasses, tapped them on the counter, then each took their shot. 

He let out a quick exhale, ignoring the little shudder that wanted so badly to creep out of him. Amy just smiled at him. She looked about four seconds away from making some kind of comment that would undoubtedly make him roll his eyes, but they were interrupted before she could.

“Jake! You cut your hair!” 

“Charles, c’mon.” Jake batted Boyle’s hands away from his hair, rolling his eyes as Amy bit back a laugh. 

“It looks so good!”

“It’s my birthday present,” Amy announced happily. 

“Wait,” Gina sidled up to them. “You cut your hair for Amy’s birthday?” 

Jake ran his fingers through his hair again, this time a bit more self-consciously. 

Gina made a quiet sound of disgust. “That’s a lame birthday present _and_ a stupid reason to cut your hair.”

Jake grimaced at Gina, but he grinned when Amy laughed again. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s an okay gift. Now I won’t have to worry about his hair getting in my face when we’re sneaking around during stakeouts.” 

Jake scoffed. “Okay, I make you sneeze on a stakeout _one time_ and I never hear the end of it. If I remember correctly, my quick thinking is the reason we got the perps that day. And besides, your hair gets in my face all the time.” 

“Yeah, but my ponytails are way more contained than the mop on your head was.”

Hank slid two more drinks over to them, their usuals. Jake murmured a thanks, carrying both his and Amy’s drink back over to the table with their friends. 

“I’m going to grow it back just to spite you, Santiago.” She slipped her drink out of his hand, sipping on it instead of responding. “Actually, do you think they make hair extensions to get me to my old length? That would be way faster.” 

“And way more expensive,” Amy shot back as she sat down in the booth. Rosa made a face as she took in Jake’s new haircut. 

“Yeah, but annoying you is totally worth the extra money.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he slid into the booth next to her, bumping against her to get her to scooch over to make room for him and choosing to ignore the way she mimicked him. 

“I’m still just trying to figure out why Amy’s hair is _always_ in your face,” Charles announced, that too-high insinuating voice making everyone at the table groan. 

“We were talking about stakeouts, Charles.”

“And,” Terry tacked on, “that specifically goes against the mandatory sexual harassment training we _just_ did, Boyle.” He made a face at Charles, then stood up from the table. “I promised Sharon I wouldn’t be home too late tonight. She recorded the Voice for me. So I’ll leave you guys with that reminder,” he looked pointedly at Charles, “sexual insinuations constitute sexual harassment.”

“We’re not even at work, Sarge.” Charles complained quietly. 

“No sexual harassment, Boyle.” Terry shook his head when Charles groaned and reluctantly agreed. “Happy birthday, Santiago. Have fun you guys.”

Everyone at the table murmured their goodbyes. Jake watched as Terry walked away, then he turned his head back to see Rosa still staring at his much more tamed curls, a contrast to the way it had been when she’d seen him at work a few hours earlier. “What?” 

Rosa shrugged one shoulder, taking a long pull of her beer before she replied. “You look like an actual adult instead of a teenager who just woke up.”

Amy tried to hide her laughter with her glass, and he chose to shoot his glare at her instead of Rosa. “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment on my new haircut instead of an insult on the way I’ve looked for the past four years.”

Rosa snickered. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.” 

—

Things continued on about the way they always did. Hitchcock and Scully left a little while after Terry. Rosa outdrank everyone, Amy just sipping on her third drink leisurely. They took turns telling stories, Gina making fun of everyone without looking up from her phone until she finally announced that she had an important date with a nameless guy whose number she got on her lunch break, so _don’t wait up for her._ Charles pulled Jake over to the pool tables, where his attention was split between trying to be a good opponent in spite of how buzzed he’d found himself and watching with a smirk as Amy pulled a reluctant Rosa out of the booth to haphazardly "dance". Just as Jake was about to lose his second game of pool, Rosa dragged Amy over to the tables. 

She shoved Amy into Jake’s side. “She’s your partner, it’s your turn. I’m leaving.” 

Amy frowned. “You’re no fun, Diaz.” 

“You stepped on my toes like eight times and you have _no_ rhythm.”

Jake maneuvered around Amy so he didn’t hit her with the pool stick. “Hold on, watch me beat Charles real quick—”

“Jake that’s _my_ ball.”

Jake spun to look at Amy when she laughed at him. “What are _you_ laughing at? You’re so drunk you’re making Rosa go home.” 

“At least I know what balls belong to me.” 

Jake raised his eyebrows at her. “Yeah? And what balls, exactly, would those be, Santiago?” 

Amy stammered, the pink on her cheeks blooming into a darker shade under his teasing gaze. Rosa laughed. “You two are dumb. Get home safe.” 

“Yeah,” Charles agreed as Rosa walked away. “I actually think it’s time I head back home, too. I have the dogs, ya’know.” 

“Awh, Charles, _c’mon,”_ Amy whined. “You guys are no fun.” 

“Sorry.” He smiled, pulling his jacket off of the stool he’d been sitting on. “But you guys should hang out and have fun, though.”

Jake scoffed. “He’s only leaving because he doesn’t want me to beat him.”

Charles made a face. “I’d love to stay, but you know how Jason gets when he’s alone for too long.” 

“Ugh,” Jake groaned. “Yeah, horny.” 

Amy’s face pinched up in disgust.

“Yeah, I have to take him for a run to get all his energy out before bed or—” Charles trailed off, waving his hand dismissively, his expression suddenly far away. “It’s just a mess.”

Amy gagged and Jake groaned again. “Ugh, god, Charles, just _go.”_

“Have fun, though! Happy birthday, Amy!” 

They both watched as Charles walked out the door. He turned back to Amy, finding an expression on her face that he guessed mirrored his own. He and Amy didn’t, like, _hangout._ Not alone, at least. 

They spent a ton of time alone together, but that was always in the context of work. While they finally had a pretty solid working relationship, they hadn’t made any sort of habit of spending _any_ time with each other outside of work unless the rest of the squad tagged along, too. They weren’t so much real friends as they were work friends, he supposed. 

“So…” He trailed off, unsure about what to do with the silence that had settled between them. “What do you wanna do? I can beat you in a game of pool, you can step on my toes some if you didn’t get all that out of your system with Rosa…” He chuckled when she grimaced at him. “Another drink? It’s your birthday, you can have whatever you want.” 

“Yeah…” She shrugged at him. Her cheeks were a pretty shade of pink, flushed from alcohol and the exertion of dancing through the last five songs. “Maybe I should just head home, too.” 

“What!?” He shook his head, setting the pool stick he’d been leaning on back on the table. “You _just_ said Rosa and Charles were boring for leaving.” 

“Yeah, but everybody else already went home,” she argued, gesturing around like that made her point. 

“I’m still here.” He gestured to himself, a wide smile on his face. She frowned, and he narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Yeah, but it’s not like we…” She tilted her head a little, as if she were trying to find the right words. “We don’t, like… _hangout.”_

“I know. But we’re friends! You said it yourself earlier. So what’s stopping us?” 

“I don’t know, Jake…” 

“Just stick around for one more drink. I forgot to get you a real gift, I at _least_ owe you a birthday shot.” 

She studied him for a moment, her eyes shifting to look around the bar. He followed her gaze, grinning to himself when he could see her resolve crumbling. “Okay, fine. But just one drink.” 

He held his hands up in a placating manner. “Just one drink, and I’ll make sure you get home before your carriage turns into a pumpkin, or whatever.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, but she laughed as she led the way to the bar. He watched as she lifted herself onto a bar stool, her shoulders bouncing to whatever pop song filtered over the speakers. He slid into the seat next to her. Hank was busy with another customer, so another bout of silence fell over them. 

“I do like your hair,” she finally announced, smiling dreamily at him as she twisted her fingers around a loose curl. 

“Thank you.” He grinned, tipping his head for her as she continued ruffling her fingers through his hair. He’d never admit it, but he liked the way it felt, her fingers pulling through his hair. “I like your hair, too.” 

Her eyes narrowed, but the corners of her lips tipped up. “I mean, my hair’s the same.”

He shrugged. “It’s different from when we first met. You had bangs, remember?” 

“Oh my god, yeah.” She pulled her hands out of his hair to absentmindedly play with her own. “It was so short then.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “I like it like this.” 

She smiled back. “Thanks, Jake.” 

They were still looking at each other when Hank slid over to their side of the bar. “Hey, detectives. What can I get for you?” 

Jake shook his head, his face feeling uncharacteristically warm when he looked over to Hank. “Yeah, can we get a couple of birthday shots for the birthday girl, here?” 

“A birthday shot? Like… liqueur?”

Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. You have anything that tastes like cake?”

Hank laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Jake leaned his head on his hand, all warmth as he smiled over at her. Maybe he’d just had one too many drinks, but Amy looked prettier than usual. She was always pretty, but she was usually pretty _and_ annoying. Pretty _and_ uptight. Pretty _and_ in the way of whatever cool thing he was trying to do at work.

But now, she was just pretty. Infuriatingly pretty, her hair falling over her shoulder, her dark lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. Her lipstick was mostly smudged off by now, just a hint of a darker tint on her bottom lip. The twinkly lights overtop of the bar sparkled in her eyes, and he hadn’t noticed that he was staring at her again until Hank slid two shots in front of them. 

He cleared his throat. Yeah, he’d had too many drinks. But what was one more?

“Birthday shots, on the house.” 

Jake scoffed. “Man, I’m never gonna get to give you a real birthday present, am I?” 

Amy smiled at Hank. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Happy birthday, Amy. You two have a good night.” 

Jake grinned and waved at him, turning to face Amy as she held up her shot. He had to give it to Hank, this is exactly what he’d been thinking when he asked for a birthday shot. It was some kind of clear liquor, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. 

“Okay. I guess I don’t have, like, a real toast to give, exactly.” The corner of his lips quirked up into a lop-sided smile, a bit too affectionate to have really been a smirk. “But… I thought you were super annoying when we met. And now I only find you _kind of_ annoying.” She laughed, shaking her head at him. He laughed with her, taking a moment to compose himself before he continued. “I’m really glad you transferred to the nine-nine, though. Even if it is only because I enjoy kicking your ass in arrests.” 

She smiled at him. “Awh, Peralta. You’re almost tolerable when you’re drunk.” 

“Hey,” he corrected seriously. “This has nothing to do with how many drinks I’ve had. I’m only being nice because it’s your birthday.” 

She shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

He held his shot out for her to clink hers against. “Happy birthday, Ames.” 

She paused midway to reaching his glass, her eyebrows raising. “Ames?” 

He shrugged, stumbling over his effort at being nonchalant. “You’ve been here three years. It’s about time I gave you a nickname, isn’t it?” 

She clinked her glass with his. “I like it.” 

“Maybe that’ll be your real birthday gift, then.” 

She rolled her eyes, and they both knocked back their shots. He was already smiling over at her when her lips parted in surprise. She inspected the glass, like that would give her some insight into what she’d just tasted. 

“That tastes _exactly_ like cake.” 

He was in the process of trying to count exactly how many drinks he’d had when he noticed that her eyes were aimed at his lips. He’d been looking at her—staring at her—and it’s not like he was new being around her. He’d seen Amy looking attractive plenty of times. In fact, he’d seen her looking downright hot on a few different stakeouts, dresses that hugged her hips and tugged his attention to every accentuated curve that her pantsuits were less eager to display on a normal day. Even the pantsuits, if he were being honest, were attractive in their own right. He’d had no problem playing the part, his hand planted firmly on the small of her back to guide her through a crowd, her head tucked into his neck to whisper observations to him. He was barely distracted by her at all then, had never lost focus beyond a quick glimpse at the back of her thighs when she leaned over to order a drink, a stray inappropriate thought that went away as abruptly as it appeared, _maybe_ an image of her on his mind as he settled into bed on an off day. He could only assume that her being the sole keeper of his attention, in simple jeans and some shirt with flowers that he’d seen her wear a hundred times, could be blamed on the alcohol.

Amy was his partner. His annoying partner, his innocent partner, his _professional_ partner, and he shouldn’t be watching her stare at his lips. He shouldn’t be looking down at her lips, watching as her tongue flicked across her bottom lip before tugging it in between her teeth. He shouldn’t be watching with bated breath, waiting, _hoping_ that she’s thinking about kissing him, too. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about kissing her at all. 

But he was. 

He exhaled softly when she reached toward him, her thumb brushing the corner of his lips. She pulled her thumb back, smiling at him. “You had whipped cream…” She trailed off, showing him instead of finishing her sentence. Before he had a chance to say anything, she promptly licked it off of her thumb. 

His stomach twisted with a familiar feeling, one that felt entirely inappropriate (but, unfortunately, _not_ entirely new) aimed at her, and _yeah,_ they needed to get out of here. Preferably _before_ he did something stupid. (Abruptly kissing your coworker on her birthday probably broke some rule from that sexual harassment training too, right?)

“Hey, uh…” He shook his head, trying to shove the image of her tongue running along her thumb to taste whipped cream that was on _his_ lips out of his mind. He cleared his throat. “C’mon, we can share a cab.” 

She came along easily enough, swaying and stumbling just a little. He looped his arm around her waist, a steadying hand holding onto her hip, gently keeping her close in case she tripped or something. She didn’t have a jacket, and the chill from the crisp, fall air was enough to bring her a little closer to him. She adjusted, pulling his hand off of her hip and gripping onto his arm, her face leaning onto his shoulder. He was staring at the street, but he could feel her eyes on his face. 

“God, where the hell are all the cabs? We’re still in New York, right?” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been at Shaw’s and not seen a single cab on the street.”

“Just call for one,” she offered. “I have the number in my phone if you need it.” He looked down at her, the neon signs from the business across the street reflected in her eyes. Her hair whipped in front of her face as the wind blew, and she shivered and ducked closer to his body.

“Hey, here.” He pulled his arm out of her grip with only a little resistance, then he shrugged his jacket off, immediately helping her to get it on her arms. She’d already fixed her hair, but there was a big piece still going the wrong way at the top of her head, so he adjusted it back into place. “That better?” 

She nodded, pulling the jacket up around her chin and ducking further inside it. Her grip returned to his arm, and he grinned as he shifted his attention to calling acab.

After he called, it was just a waiting game. A few minutes passed, her grip tightening on his arm each time a breeze rolled by. 

“C’mon. You wanna get in my car while we wait?” He reached for his jacket, pulling one side open and reaching for the inside pocket to extract his keys. She stood completely still, watching his face with every movement. He couldn’t quite place the reason that it made him nervous. He chuckled to dispel some of the thick tension that suddenly surrounded them. “God, you’re always cold.”

She let herself be tugged closer to the car by her grip on his arm. She let go of him when they got a little closer, opening the back door and slipping into the car before he even had the opportunity to stop her. 

He laughed, resting his arm on top of the open door as he looked in at her. “I thought we’d get in the front seat. Ya’know, turn on the heat and maybe the radio.” 

“It’s fine, Jake. Just get in and shut the door.” He studied her for a moment, but quickly got in when she added, “Please. You’re letting the cold air in.” 

She didn’t grab his arm again, but she did slide over close enough that their thighs were touching, leaving a big, empty space on her other side. The silence between them in the bar was nothing compared to the quiet surrounding them now. He peered at the street one more time, then turned to look at her. 

“So I figured I’d ride to your apartment with you, then once you were home safe, I’d head back to my place.” His eyebrows pulled together as she shook her head. “Oh. I mean, you can take the cab home by yourself if you want, I just wanted to make sure you made it home okay.” 

“No.” She shook her head again, her hand landing on his thigh to support herself as she twisted to look at him. “I don’t wanna go home.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her, laughing quietly. “Okay… If you don’t wanna go home, where do you wanna go?” 

She raised her eyebrows back at him, looking at him as if it were obvious. 

“I, uh…” He was trying to think of where else she might want to go, but he was coming up blank. Had she already told him? She was being weird, and having her so close, her hand warm on his upper thigh, was more distracting than he’d ever admit. “If you have Kylie’s address, I can have them take you there, but we don’t know if she’s—”

“I wanna go home with you.”

His eyebrows drew together again, his eyes studying her unchanging expression. He swallowed. “I’m sorry, you want to come home… with me? Like, to…?” He glanced down at her hand when she squeezed his thigh gently. He laughed, a little disbelieving noise. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Amy…” 

“Mmm-mmm,” she hummed a little sound of protest, her hand suddenly coming up to tap against his chest. _“You said,”_ she paused for a moment, her eyes intense on his, “that I can have anything I want.” She traced her finger in a little line from his collarbone down across his sternum. “Because it’s my birthday.” 

“And you…” He swallowed again, watching as her lips pulled into a mischievous smile.

“And I… want _you.”_

And then, just like that, she was kissing him. 

He had imagined kissing her, in some of his weaker moments. He wasn’t, like, _into_ Amy, exactly, but he was definitely attracted to her. The thought had crossed his mind—if they met in some other way, perhaps he would have pursued something. But they didn’t meet in some other way. She was his partner, and he never would have guessed that he would have the opportunity to find out what kissing her was actually like. 

He was slow to respond, surprised when her lips collided with his. Kissing her was exactly like working a case with her. She was inquisitive, shifting her hands to tug through his hair, experimenting with where to put her hands, gently biting his lip. When she got a lead in the form of him softly groaning at something she did, she pursued it enthusiastically. She was leading him, and as much as he hated being a secondary, he followed her every move.

His hands lingered at her waist, then he was tugging her closer, pulling her into his lap, breaking the kiss to look down and help her to situate her legs on either side of him as she straddled his waist. He looked back up at her, half sure that he’d ruined the moment, but she pulled him in with the same urgency, shrugging his jacket off of her shoulders and shifting further into his lap. 

He tugged her top out from where it was tucked into her jeans, his hands slipping underneath. She gasped when his cold hands touched the small of her back. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“Shut up,” she whispered back. He laughed for all of two seconds, but then she was grinding against his lap and his laugh was melting into a sort of breathy groan. 

He moved one hand back to her thigh, the other remaining on her side as he helped her to rock against him, chasing friction and getting lost in the sounds she made against his neck. 

“Come back,” he murmured into her hair.

Everything was Amy. Her hands in his hair and her tongue in his mouth, the sweet flavor from her birthday shot still on her lips. Every movement was so intentional. She was paying attention, learning him. He was all reaction and she was all research, but they were both all desire as she shifted to lean him back against the seat. 

The headlights shining through the window is what tore him back to reality. The windows were foggy, but he could still make out the outline of the car. He leaned on his hands, another groan slipping out of him as her insistent kisses moved to his neck, her hips keeping up their rhythm through two layers of denim. 

“Amy, the car’s here.” 

“Mhm,” she hummed against his neck, no visible intention of stopping. 

He wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and stilling her movements. She sighed against his lips when he kissed her, hands tugging him closer by fistfuls of his shirt. He swallowed, his voice low. “C’mon. My apartment.”

She kissed him again. “Mmm, no. Stay here, we’ll be quick.” 

He let out an amused hum, letting himself be guided back against the seat. “At my apartment, Amy. We can take our time. Let’s go.”

She protested when he shifted her off of his lap. Her hand slid back to his lap, gripping him through his jeans. “But you want me right now.” 

His eyes slipped shut, nodding against her neck. “Yeah, I do.” She gripped him tighter, her hand shifting to provide him more friction. He took a shaky breath, succumbing to the sensation for a moment, but then he was grabbing her wrist to stop her. “At my apartment.” 

“Jake,” she whined. 

“I’ll make it worth the wait.” He looked at her seriously, pulling her in for one more quick kiss. “Promise.” 

She let out one more frustrated sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

He affixed his jacket back on her shoulders when they slipped out of the car, staying a half step behind her and slipping into the back of the cab alongside her. As soon as they were cloaked in the darkness of the back seat, her fingers were trailing across his inner thigh. She was getting under his skin and she knew it, a quiet smirk plastered on her face as she avoided his eye contact, fingers just barely brushing across him, enjoying watching him squirm.

He retaliated by leaning into her neck. She shifted to make more room for him when his lips brushed against her collarbone, her grip tightening on his thigh when he located the spot below her jaw that made her grind against him harder in his car. He usually tried not to be so touchy in cabs, but this, like everything with Amy, was an unspoken competition. He couldn’t just let her _win._ The little sound she made when he sucked on that spot on her neck was just an added bonus. 

He should be thinking about how wrong this is. He should have noticed the way that Charles looked at them when he told them to have fun before he left. He should have said no when she kissed him, should have insisted that they get in the front seat, should have kept his wits about him instead of taking that last shot. He should have done so many things differently, but as it was, none of those thoughts were running through his head. 

As they slipped out of the warm cab and back into the cool air, he thought about how good it felt when she was grinding against him in his backseat. When he tangled his fingers with hers, leading her up the steps to his door, he thought about how good those hands felt running through his hair. As he fumbled with the lock, he thought about fumbling with the button on her jeans. When he finally got the door open, he pulled her against him, pressing her against the brick. She let out a little surprised moan, her hands sliding up to grip his shirt. He brushed his lips against hers, his voice low. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

She nodded, her lips brushing against his again. “You said anything I wanted.” 

“And I’ll give it to you.” He pressed his lips to hers, the hand behind her back bringing her closer to him. “I just… you’re sure this is what you want?” 

“Take me inside, Jake.” 

He shook his head. She kissed him again, her lips soft and demanding on his. He broke the kiss, shaking his head again, his lips still ghosting against hers. His voice was thick with self-restraint, a foreign sound he didn’t really recognize. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her lips. Objectively, he knew that sleeping with Amy wasn’t exactly a good idea, and he needed to hear her say that she really wanted this. He _wanted_ to hear her say it. “Tell me you want me, Ames.” 

She waited until he met her eye contact. “You first.” 

He laughed softly. “No. This was your idea.” He kissed her again. She hummed against his lips, her hands scaling his shoulders and sliding back into his hair. He practically sounded like he was pleading with her, voice shaky and low. “You.” 

_“Please.”_ She ducked under his arm, slipping out of his grasp. She looked him over pointedly, daring him to stop her as she stepped into his apartment. “I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. Don’t act like this is the first time you’ve thought about this.” 

He scoffed, a bit of defensive annoyance bubbling up inside him. “Like you haven’t?” 

“I never said I haven’t.” That shut him right up. He swallowed, following her in when she shot him another teasing look. She slipped out of his jacket the second she stepped in the door, hanging it on the hook just inside. He shut the door behind him, then shrugged out of his hoodie, dropping it behind him on the floor. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I bet you think about it all the time.” 

“Do you?” 

“I might.”

It wasn’t quite an admission, but the lack of denial was exactly what he would’ve expected from her. And it was hot, and it was good, but it wasn’t enough. His hands wound around her waist from behind, his lips hovering over her ear. “Then say it.” 

He busied himself with trailing kisses across her neck, losing himself in the quiet sounds she made. When he pulled back to prompt her again, she was already unbuttoning the second to last button on her shirt. 

He caught her wrists in his hands, twisting her and pressing her back against the wall roughly, her hands pinned on either side of her head. “Why won’t you just say it?” 

“Why won’t you just kiss me?” 

_“Amy.”_

“God, you’re annoying.” She whined, arching her back and pressing her chest against him. He tried to ignore the black bra peeking out of her shirt, the way her chest rose and fell with every frustrated breath. “I _want you,_ Jake. I want you. You _said,”_ she paused, struggling against his grip for a moment, but he kept hold of her wrists, “anything I wanted. And I want you to fuck me.” A quiet, unintentional groan slipped out of him at the confession. “Was that permission explicit enough? Or should I be more specific?” 

He looked into her eyes for a moment, watching as she raised her eyebrows expectantly. “I mean… I won’t stop you if you want to go into detail…” 

His laughter died on his lips as she surged forward, their lips finally connecting again. He wasted no time lifting her onto his hips, pressing her back against the wall. She kicked her shoes off, clambering against the tile in the entryway with a _thud_. She hooked her legs around his waist, her fingers trailing up to explore his hair again. If he had known that her hands in his hair would feel this good, he might’ve cut his hair two years ago. Her fingers locked in, tugging gently and pulling an embarrassing whimper from his throat. A little victorious smile stretched across her lips, and he buried his face in her neck to work on getting her back. He was not about to let _Amy Santiago_ break him down like this.

At least not without a fight. 

The sound she made when he sucked on that spot right above her collarbone was unlike anything he’d ever heard from her, and he’d feel self-satisfied if it hadn’t inspired the obvious shudder that ran through his body. He pulled at the final two buttons on her shirt, balancing her on his hips long enough to help her pull his own shirt over his head. 

There was a moment of calm between them. She ran her fingers up along his chest, her eyes tracing every angle and plane. He tore his eyes away from the lace on her chest to watch her studying him, committing every minute flicker of desire sparkling in her eyes to memory. His hands were light on their ascent up her body, ghosting over her hips, a light breeze along her sides. He smirked as he watched goosebumps appear in his path, but the expression was quickly broken by his tongue tracing along his bottom lip in anticipation. He palmed the fabric, cupping and squeezing and feeling. She arched into his touch, eyebrows pulling together as her lips slipped apart. 

His hands kept up their steady pressure, thumbs teasing the edge of fabric. He leaned in, her head tipping back to give him better access to her neck. He started just underneath her jaw, his trail of kisses travelling around, down the column of her throat. She sighed when his tongue traced her collarbone, her grip on his shoulders tightening when he pressed warm, wet kisses down her sternum. He mouthed over the thin fabric, his hands creeping back up her sides, around her back to grip the clasp of her bra. 

There should be alarms sounding in his head. He shouldn’t keep going, had already gone too far. He should _not_ pass go, absolutely should not collect $200, but he didn’t hear any alarms at all. All he heard was the soft, desperate sound she made when she shifted against him, his own little responding gasp. Her encouraging movement provided them both with a little friction, and he quickly angled her against the wall so he could rut his hips into her to repeat the sensation, sighing against her chest at the little bit of relief it provided him. 

The second he got her bra unclasped, his mouth was exploring her. He completely abandoned the fabric, leaving it to slip off of her arms as he slipped his fingers underneath. He made soft sounds with each little nibble he pressed to her skin, and she pushed closer to each movement. He paused to suck a hickey into the curve of her breast, his thumbs gently sweeping over her nipples. By the time his tongue replaced one of his thumbs, she was already working on unbuckling his belt. 

While he was sure that fucking Amy against the wall in his entryway would’ve been great—and based on everything that had happened up to this point (and much to his surprise considering everything he’d known about her prior to this night), he was pretty certain that she would have no complaints—he was also pretty sure that his neighbors wouldn’t enjoy it quite as much. He brought his lips back to hers as he toed off his shoes. She gasped into his mouth when he grabbed her ass, adjusting his grip on her and feeling along the wall to balance as he backed up toward the dark living room. 

He immediately tripped over the shoe she’d kicked off behind him. Amy squeaked against his lips when he caught himself on the opposite wall with his elbow. He stumbled with her, but his grip remained tight. She rolled her eyes at his laughter, but her tongue was on his again in no time, so she wasn’t _that_ annoyed. 

He backed around the corner, cursing under his breath when he banged the back of his head against a wall sconce. He ducked around it, leaning his back on the wall next to it. 

“You okay?” She murmured right against his ear. The way he was leaning provided her with a new angle, and she experimentally moved against him. 

His head dropped back against the wall, subdued groans escaping his lips. “Hmm? Yeah.” 

He was leaning against a poster on the wall. She continued grinding against him, her tongue tracing patterns on his neck. The sound of paper ripping cut into the room, and he slipped where his elbow had torn the corner of the poster. She gasped, gripping the wall for stability. 

“Shit,” he whispered. 

“Put me—” He was already lowering her to the floor before she even got the full sentence out. He recognized the edge in her voice. He was no stranger to frustrated Amy Santiago. 

That’s what provided him with the first little bit of clarity he’d had since he showed up at Shaw’s earlier that night. The moment was over. He was half naked, making out with his partner in the darkness of his living room, her bare chest still capturing all of his attention, and _what_ was he thinking? His hands hesitated on her ribs. He should stop touching her, but _fuck_ , her soft skin was addictive. He’d spent three years not touching her, and now that he’d started, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to stop.

But he was stumbling through his apartment and they _worked together_ and she was looking at him in that calculating way, like she wasn’t sure what her next move should be.

“You’re so fucking clumsy,” she muttered, catching him by surprise as she pushed him back against the wall, her lips taking ownership of his neck again. 

As quickly as those thoughts had popped into his head, they were all gone. This was Amy. She knew exactly what she was doing. If there was one thing he’d learned about her in the past three years, it was that she didn’t go into things blind. There was no risk of them having feelings for each other, he knew. They didn’t have to talk about it. This wasn’t the initiation to some messy friends with benefits thing or the start of a relationship that he was sure would burn bright and fizzle quickly. It was just a one time thing. Not a drunken mistake, but an alcohol fueled decision. It was wrong, the two of them being together—this little hint of forbiddenness that made it that much hotter when she abruptly tugged at the button on his jeans.

They were two adults, two _colleagues_ , who happened to find each other attractive. They were horny, and they were tipsy, and they were there. Unlike when he brought dates home, he knew exactly what this was. He didn’t have to wonder if he was doing the right things or spend time testing boundaries or figuring out expectations. They were always on the same page, like she was one of the fifteen books he'd read in his life. They trusted each other, they knew each other, and they were using each other—and that was just fine with them. 

And if the alcohol was influencing that relaxed attitude, if they maybe wouldn’t have pursued such desires under different circumstances, if it was actually way more complicated than their drunk, horny minds had simplified the situation down to… well, that’s something they’d have to deal with later.

Her hands made quick work of dragging his jeans down his thighs. He stepped out of them, kicking at them until they were in a pile next to massage chair number four. He was working on unbuttoning her jeans when she swatted his hands away. He pulled them back quickly, concerned about crossing a line in his eagerness to touch her. He didn’t have time to consider his actions, because as soon as his hands were out of the way, her hands were delving into the final piece of clothing he wore. She pressed a sharp bite to the side of his neck, and he wasn’t sure it was her hands or her teeth that made him moan like that, but he didn’t even care. He just wanted more. 

She wasted no time in trailing her kisses down his body, and he made no effort to slow her down. He watched intently as she kneeled in front of him, one of her hands still working diligently inside his boxers. She looked up at him, that cocky _I’m one step ahead of you_ grin that he often saw when they worked cases together. He was just about to make a comment about it when her free hand started slowly tugging his boxers down. He let out a shaky exhale. 

There was something about watching her that was so mesmerizing. She licked her lips as she appraised him, watching her own hand stroking slow and consistent against him. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t want to miss anything—needed so badly to watch her next move. He finally lost his battle when her lips slipped apart. His eyes drifted shut, one of his hands tracing gently over her bare shoulder, the other helplessly searching for _something_ to do. 

She took advantage of his distraction, using the moment to slide him into her mouth. He groaned, his free hand finally settling into her hair. She murmured appreciatively around him. If someone would have told him this morning that this is where he’d be tonight, he wouldn’t have believed it for a second. 

Her hands slid up his thighs, curving around his hips. She rubbed her thumbs against his hips, her fingers pressing into his back. She was rocking his hips into her, and it was at least in the top five hottest things he’d ever experienced. His hands in her hair gently guided her closer, and the sensation was becoming too much after almost no time at all. Something about the way they were working together, the way that he had been a bit hesitant, but she was confident in what she wanted… 

It occurred to him that maybe he didn’t really know Amy at all. When he teased her, it was because he really believed that she was a prude. He wasn’t deluded enough to think that she was a virgin by any means, but he had been under the impression that she was fairly innocent. She was so professional at work, such a stickler for all the rules. She was organized and serious and smart. And yes, of _course_ she could be all of those things and still be intense in bed. In fact, he supposed that it almost made sense, like this was the only place where she let loose a little bit. 

But she just seemed so _pure._ He could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard her swear before tonight. When he teased her, she’d get all flushed and flustered and shy, or, every now and then, she’d get defensive, claim that he had no idea what he was talking about. He never believed that he really didn’t know her, though. He’d been under the impression that Amy was a _no sex until the fifth date_ kind of woman.

But his cock was definitely in her mouth. And she definitely knew what she was doing, all intentional and calculated and _fuck_ , so fucking hot. And when she slipped him out of her mouth, lips glistening, sultry eyes set on him with a voice to match as she murmured out a soft _come for me, Jake?_

Well, he hadn’t anticipated that at all. He never thought he’d hear words like those leave her lips, and they snatched away any self-control he had left in him. He barely choked out a _fuck, yes_ before she was doubling down her efforts, his hips jerking involuntarily and her tongue working against him, and then he lost track of his words altogether as they tumbled out of him. 

“Amy— _oh fuck._ Don’t stop. Please don’t—” He let out a sharp sigh, his fingers gripping handfuls of her hair. “Yes, Amy, faster, please— _please_ —fuck, _Ames—”_

And then he was coming in her mouth—the absolute insanity of the situation not quite evading him, even through his stupor. She hummed around him, her hands stroking comfortingly along his sides, like she was trying to carry him through it. He stilled, gasping and groaning and whispering praises as she slowly took him fully into her mouth again. She smiled up at him when she was done, then bit her lip in a sort of self-conscious way, and his legs suddenly felt so wobbly. 

She laughed softly as she helped ease him onto the floor, and he couldn’t help but to moan against her lips as she kissed him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an orgasm quite that intense. He was on the floor, all breathless and sweaty, with his partner kissing him and comforting him through his post-orgasm endorphins. 

She gave him a moment, all gentle and soft, and then she was laughing quietly again. “I think you just said please more while I had your dick in my mouth than I’ve heard you say it in the past three years.” 

He shook his head, a lazy, slightly embarrassed smile stretching across his face. “At least now you know how to get me to say please at work.” She laughed, her tongue returning to his neck to distract him all over again. He hummed, all in a daze. “Give me, like, two minutes. That was—”

“Good?” 

_“Insane.”_ He shook his head at her again, lidded eyes trained on hers. “You’re amazing.” 

“I know.”

“Mmmm.” He laced his fingers into her hair, gently tugging her away from him so he could look at her more clearly. “Don’t get cocky—”

She raised her eyebrows, a sort of condescending tone in her voice. “I feel like I deserve to be. You’re on the floor, Peralta.” He tugged on her hair and she gasped when he angled her face toward his. "It's not my fault I'm good at everything I do." 

He scoffed. “This is gonna be real embarrassing for you when I make you come so hard that you forget your name.” 

Her laughter bubbled out of her. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

He laughed against her lips, his fingers slowly tracing up her back. “That almost sounds like a challenge.” 

“What if it is?” 

He wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her with him as he stood. This laugh was a bit darker. “You know I can’t let a good challenge go…” 

He slipped two fingers into the front of her jeans, tugging her against him. She bit her lip through her quiet laughter. “That’s what I’m counting on.” 

Then he was kissing her again, leaning over her and making quick work of unbuttoning her jeans. She wound her arms around his neck, gasping into his mouth as he shoved his hand down the front of her pants. He guided her down the hallway, laughing when she shifted and bumped into a shelf, knocking a basketball off. 

“Who’s clumsy, now?” He murmured, kissing down her neck on his way to tug her jeans down the rest of the way. 

“Who puts a basketball on a shelf?” She shot back. He chuckled quietly, tossing her jeans to the floor carelessly. Amy moaned against his lips when he abruptly lifted her onto his hips again, immediately shifting in search of the friction she craved. He stumbled down the hallway, pausing every few steps to lean her against the wall, slipping his hand between them, rubbing slowly through her underwear.

She squeaked when he gracelessly dropped her on his bed. He took a step back and watched as she shifted to get comfortable. 

“Oh my god, Amy…” He trailed off, his hands intent on touching her _anywhere_. His fingers brushed across her sides, and he bit his lip as she arched closer to his touch. “God, you look…” He shook his head, exhaling quietly, “just, so good.” He curled his fingers around the edge of her underwear, some soft, gray material that was exactly what he would have expected her to wear. “Can I?” 

“Please.” 

She shifted her hips to help him as he dragged the fabric down her thighs, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. She kept her eyes on him, her legs still pressed together. He shifted off of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he gripped her legs behind the back of her knees, then abruptly pulled her down to the end of the bed. His fingers trailed up and down her outer thighs, eyebrows raised in question. 

She rubbed her calf against his side, her eyebrows similarly raised—a dare. So he slipped his fingers between her knees, gently easing her thighs apart. His eyes left her face, taking the time to trail over her whole body. 

He let out a soft exhale, shaking his head. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong, Peralta?” She shifted her hips underneath his hands. There was an edge in her voice that he recognized from work. He smoothed his palms up and down, from her thighs up to her hips and back, watching her intently. 

“You’re nervous,” he whispered. 

“I am _not.”_

She was tense, completely naked with Jake propped up between her thighs, just watching her. She sounded defensive, the defiance in her voice brought on by one too many sex jokes at her expense. A smile crept onto his lips as he watched goosebumps appear on her hips when he dragged his fingertips up, then soothed them away with his palms on the way back down. She covered her chest for a moment, then reluctantly moved her hands away, intent on proving him wrong, but he knew her well enough by now. She was nervous. He could see it in the flicker of her eyes, the same one that appeared when they walked into an abandoned warehouse without enough intel on what was awaiting them inside. She bit her lip, and he liked to think that the gesture was partially rooted in anticipation, but he knew nervous Amy Santiago when he saw her. 

“You don’t have to be.” His voice was low, rhythmic. She opened her mouth to protest, but when she saw the earnest look in his eyes, she just closed her eyes and nodded. “Just relax for me, Ames.” 

He watched as some of the tension dissipated from her frame. Her shoulders relaxed, the little crease between her eyebrows slowly disappearing. She let out a soft, shaky breath. 

“Good job.” Her hips twitched at that. He smirked to himself. He knew she’d like that. Maybe she wasn’t exactly as innocent as he thought she was, but she was still Amy. 

Her eyes were still closed when he pressed the first kiss to the inside of her thigh. She gasped, surprised at the new contact, but her legs shifted a little further apart. His lips didn’t leave her skin, sliding up another centimeter or two. “This okay?” 

She swallowed. “Yeah.” 

“You look great,” he murmured between kisses. 

She hummed quietly, her fingers threading gently through his hair, and he had her _exactly_ where he wanted her. He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he was going to, and he had her right in that sweet spot where she was relaxed and _just_ impatient enough. He nipped at the inside of her thigh, laughing against her skin when her fingers tightened in his hair. 

“Jake, please.” 

And he’d been contemplating dragging it out just a little longer to see how desperate he could get her, but the way she said his name, all whispery and full of longing… He couldn’t even recount exactly how it happened. One second he was teasing her, pressing his teeth into her inner thigh and smirking at every subdued sound she made, and the next he was tracing out different patterns with his tongue to figure out exactly what she liked. 

Fast—she liked fast. He slowed things down, his tongue dragging across her leisurely and making her whimper, all so he could speed up and make her swear. She made the prettiest sound he'd ever heard when he switched between broad, flat strokes and swirling the tip of his tongue in tight little circles. He couldn’t quite shake how absolutely insane this was, how Amy Santiago was in his bed, whimpering his name, guiding him to exactly where she wanted him with fistfuls of his hair.

He pulled away abruptly, and her responding whine almost made him regret it. But then he was kissing her thigh, his fingers creeping closer to find exactly how wet she was for him. 

“Do you have _any_ idea…” 

He trailed off, watching her cant her hips toward him, providing him a better angle as he eased a finger into her. His eyes clung to her every move, her chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“How many times…” 

She bit her lip, and he resisted the urge to smirk at her. He adjusted, adding a second finger and groaning at the soft sound she made as he began slowly sliding into her. 

“I’ve thought about making you come for me?”

She hummed quietly, rocking toward his devastatingly slow movements. “Tell me about it.” She raised an eyebrow at him. She thought he was bluffing, didn’t think he’d have any stories to tell. 

“You remember that stakeout at the Hampton Inn in Manhattan?” She nodded, her eyes slipping shut as he worked her. “Little black dress.” He leaned down to press a wet kiss to her inner thigh, his task momentarily forgotten as he flicked his tongue against her. She whimpered, and he pulled back. 

“You kept walking a few steps ahead of me and leaning a little too far to look around corners, and every time you did it that dress would slide up the back of your thighs a few inches. You’re lucky we weren’t in any real danger that day, because I would’ve been useless at doing my job.” 

“I wouldn’t have been teasing you if we had been in real danger, Peralta.” 

He shook his head at her, arousal twisting in his stomach at the thought of her intentionally trying to turn him on without him even knowing. He smirked at her briefly, keeping her eye contact as he moved back in between her legs, effectively shutting her up with his tongue on her clit. 

He didn’t move away from her when he began talking again, his lips still brushing against her as he spoke, each word reverberating against her sensitive skin. “Wanted to throw the entire case and just get you in one of those rooms, get in between your legs just like this.” He swirled his tongue across her again, laughing softly when she arched closer. “Make you come without even taking off that dress.” 

“Jake—”

He twisted his wrist, grinning against her skin when she hummed, her eyes slipping shut again. 

“When we were stuck at work late that one time—the Davis burglaries. You followed me into the evidence room to talk out a theory. I’d barely slept in two days and the room was dim and you just…” He shook his head, an appreciative murmur slipping out. “Fuck, you looked so good. You remember you asked why I was looking at you weird?” 

She propped herself up on her elbow, holding his eye contact as best as she could. “Yeah.” 

“I told you I was just tired, but really I couldn’t stop thinking about bending you over on that table in the back corner—”

“Jake—”

“—and fucking you until you _begged—”_

_“Jake—”_

Without warning, he was back between her legs, his tongue matching the perfect rhythm his hand had already found to get her fingers locked into his hair, a consistent string of incoherent swears mixed in with his name tumbling out of her. By the time he was done with her, she was shaking, his hands holding her hips steady as he kissed his way across her skin. 

Things moved pretty quickly from there. He didn’t even have time to congratulate himself on _so_ effectively wrecking her, because she was tugging his hair and pulling him further onto the bed, and then her tongue was in his mouth and they were sharing her taste and her hand was on his cock and he hadn’t realized that a person could actually forget how to think, but in that moment, he was certain that he couldn’t form a thought to save his life. 

He’d imagined this. If he were being completely honest—which, in regards to this subject, he usually wasn’t—he’d thought about it a lot. He’d thought about the way it would feel to push into her, that comfortable stretch giving way to something warm and wet and _close_. He’d thought about the look she might have in her eyes, had thought about how he’d like to know her taste, the same taste he was licking from his own lips as he steadied himself with his hands on her hips. He hated himself every time it popped into his head—usually halfway through jerking off, his mind conjuring up images of her that always interrupted his rhythm, that _fuck, c'mon, not again_ eventually devolving into slow, deep breaths as he came with images of her flashing through his mind. What started as just one jarring image of her _while_ he was coming, his eyes snapping open because _oh fuck, that's not right_ , eventually turned into multiple images popping into his head at the most inopportune, both from memory and invented, eventually evolving into hearing things she'd said to him, seeing her bite her lip as she concentrated. He couldn't even imagine what was going to be going through his mind _next time_ , after _this._

He was uncharacteristically quiet as he pushed into her, trying to breathe through the sensation, both of them burying soft, unintentional sounds into the other’s skin. 

“Fuck, Ames,” he muttered, entirely lost in her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging gently until her head tipped back, a stream of breathy moans littered with gasps and sighs leaving her lips as he worked into a gentle rhythm. 

Being with her exceeded every fantasy he’d ever had about her. He never anticipated the way she hooked her leg around his hip, helping him to move deeper with every stroke. He wouldn’t have guessed that she’d press her nails into his lower back like that, also wouldn’t have guessed that he’d enjoy the stinging sensation so much. They fit together so well, and while he may have jokingly suggested such a thing in the past _(great partners in the streets, great partners in the sheets_ got him a punch in the arm once upon a time), he hadn’t expected the sex to be _this_ good. 

He tipped her face to the side with his nose, his lips pressing to the spot behind her ear, murmuring a steady stream of encouragements, tongue coming out to taste salty skin. 

“Fuck, you feel so good—” 

“Harder,” she panted, interrupting him. “Fuck me harder.” 

He groaned, but he wasted no time in fulfilling her request. It felt so wrong and so right, so good and so, _so_ bad. He buried his face in her neck, fingers kneading against her skin. He couldn’t get enough of her—touching her, tasting her, sliding deeper, losing himself in every sound she made for him. 

She quieted, her lips slipping apart to give way to breathy whimpers and moans. His hand found her face, fingers gently tipping her jaw so that she was looking into his eyes. 

“God, I wanna watch you come for me. Wanna see your face—bet you look so good— _so good.”_

She bit her lip. "Oh _fuck,"_ she gripped onto him tighter, shifting her legs further apart. "Right there—Jake, _yes—"_

His hand slipped between her legs, tracing out quick, tight circles. She arched her hips to meet him halfway with each movement, shifting them together harder, her grip on his shoulder tight enough that he’d probably have little fingertip sized bruises to marvel at for the next week. 

“I’m gonna come.” She whispered it like it was a secret, and he found himself whispering in her ear to talk her through it. 

“Mmmm, yeah. Come for me, Ames.” He punctuated the request by snapping his hips into her harder, his thumb working overtime to get her there. “So fucking hot. Good girl.” 

And that was it. She bucked against him at those final two words, moaning his name the way he swore it was meant to be said. Amy Santiago, the most appropriate person he knew, was falling apart for him. She abruptly turned her head, biting down _hard_ on his shoulder, and it was all too much. He pulled her face back to his, kissing her hard as he lost his rhythm, ultimately hiding his face in the crook of her neck, muffling incoherent words into her skin as his movements became erratic. 

He hummed sleepily, trying to catch his breath. Her fingers slowly tugged through the hair at the nape of his neck for a moment, and as much as he was enjoying it, he knew he should probably extricate himself from her. They both whined quietly when he shifted off of her, rolling onto his back and pulling at the blankets until he could haphazardly toss one across her. 

Part of him thought there would be a talk. He was exhausted and satisfied, his head nowhere near any of the things he was sure they’d need to discuss after this. He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket up a little further on himself, comfortably waiting for her to break the silence. 

She never did. 

He didn’t open his eyes when he felt the sensation of someone shifting in his arms. He tightened his arms, his mind contentedly blank—pushing away what he’s sure would be a solid headache when he sat up and instead focusing on the rhythmic breath falling against his collarbone. 

It wasn’t until he started playing back the past 24 hours that the relaxed feeling slowly escaped him. 

He’s in bed with Amy. Amy _Santiago._ His _partner_.

He replayed the night over and over, from the bullpen to the bar to the car to the cab to stumbling through his door together. From _you said I could have anything I wanted,_ from that look in her eyes, to her gripping onto his pillows, one hand rooted firmly in his hair. He swore he could count the times he’d heard her swear on one hand before last night, but he was also fairly certain that the only words in her vocabulary from the time she’d stepped into his apartment were combinations of the words _fuck, yes, please,_ and _Jake._

His _partner._

She shifted in his arms again, a sleepy murmur falling somewhere against his neck. He resisted a smile at the sound. There was nothing to smile about. This was _bad_ news. Amy Santiago, the adult equivalent of a teacher’s pet, was in his bed. Friends or not, she drove him insane, and now she was probably going to want to go fill out paperwork about the interaction so as to keep everything on the books, per the rules on fraternization between employees. 

They’d just finally figured out how to be friends, and now here they were throwing a wrench straight into their friendship. It only took them three years to get to this point, and _now what?_ This one night jeopardized three years of working toward both that friendship and what had become a pretty solid working partnership, complete with all of the teasing and competition that he loves, with an unspoken agreement that they’ll back each other through anything. But what happened to that now? 

The same thoughts were likely passing through her head, because a few minutes later, she tensed in his arms, and then she was pulling away from him entirely, holding his sheet around herself and looking at him with wide eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment, then opened them back up like that would magically change who she was in bed with. He laughed softly. 

Finally, as seriously as someone who’s wearing nothing but a sheet can manage, she spoke. “Nobody ever finds out about this.” 

He laughed a little louder. “What, you don’t wanna brag about how you had sex with the best detective in the nine-nine?” Her wide eyes quickly narrowed into a glare. 

“Why would I want to brag about having sex with myself?” 

“Okay, you know it’s unfair to turn me on when we’re in the middle of a serious conversation.”

_“Jake—”_

“I know. I’m with you. Nobody ever finds out.” He shifted to pull his comforter up a little higher on his waist. “I have a reputation to uphold, Santiago. Can’t have anyone thinking I’d go and sleep with the precinct prude.”

“You’re the worst.” 

“Not what you were saying last night, but please continue.” 

“Oh my _god.”_ She sighed. “This is… god, I can’t believe we did this.” 

“I mean, I _am_ curious about what made you want to come home with me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly remembering that he’d gotten it cut less than twenty-four hours earlier. “Oh my god, was it the haircut?” 

She scoffed. “Guess I just wanted to see if you lived up to all your sex stories.” 

He smirked over at her. “Did I?” 

She shrugged, a playful sparkle in her eyes. “You were okay.” 

He stared seriously at her for a moment, then mimicked her. “Jake, fuck, right there, _harder—”_

“Oh, because you were so much better?” She hummed quietly, her voice not quite mimicking his as much as just repeating his words in her own voice. “Yes, Ames, please, _faster—”_

“What did I _just_ say about turning me on?” 

She groaned quietly, her fingers rooting into her hair. “God, this was a bad idea.”

She was getting more stressed out about it by the second. He watched her face scrunch into the expression she always got when an actual authority figure walked into the precinct to judge something stupid McGinley had made her do. Even though he felt almost exactly the same way, he couldn’t just watch her dive headfirst into that spiral.

“Hey, Ames, c’mon.” He sat up to match her position. “It was one night. It doesn’t have to be a thing.” 

She opened her eyes, reluctantly looking at him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. We’ll just call it your birthday present and—” He cut off on a laugh when she smacked him in the shoulder. 

“I actually hate you.” 

They both laughed for a moment, but then he shrugged. “But really. Nothing has to change. You’ll still be sexually attracted to paperwork,” he forged on despite her dramatic eye roll, “I’ll still run circles around you with my arrest records, and we’ll never talk about it again.” 

She ignored his arrest records comment. “Never?” 

“Never.” He smiled and extended his hand for her to shake. “Peralta guarantee.”

She shook her head, finally pushing herself off of the bed.

“And _that’s_ your birthday gift,” he tacked on with a grin.

“Listen, I’ll just make you a list for my next birthday. We’re not running into any problems like this next year.”

He pointed at her, watching as she wrapped the sheet around herself more fully and made her way toward the bedroom door in search of the scattered trail of their clothes. “Smort.” 

“Maybe my birthday gift is that now you can finally stop making jokes about my sex life, since you can’t deny that I have one now.”

He choked on his laughter. “Oh-ho-ho-ho no, Amy. If anything, I have to tease you _more.”_ She waved her hand flippantly, making him laugh again. “Don’t you think it’ll look weird if I abruptly just stop teasing you? Everyone will know something’s up. If we’re not telling people, I _have_ to tease you.” 

She scrunched her face up. “Okay, _maybe_ , but you definitely don’t have to tease me _more.”_

“Oh, I definitely do. There’s no way around it. But I won’t ever bring this up. We’ll never talk about it again, you have my word.” 

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled at him. And he meant it. They would never talk about it again. 

But he _would_ have to relentlessly tease her every chance he got. Not _about_ this. They’d never talk _about it_ , but they would both know. He would have to annoy the hell out of her with this little secret that would only be between them, this little bit of knowledge that the next time she makes a comment in front of the squad about _ew, who would wanna sleep with Peralta, he wore the same shirt for three days at Cop Con last year,_ the answer, at least at one point… was her. 

He’d play into the joke. He’d go along with it all, but he knew. When he raised his eyebrows and smirked at her as he made some joke about having to explain what sex was to her, she’d know exactly what he was thinking about. 

When Gina asked her what the worst thing in the world for her was and she replied with _being one of those girls in Jake’s car,_ they exchanged a private glance, and they both knew. When he guaran _teed_ the date would end in sex if he won the bet, he caught the way that her breath almost imperceptibly hitched, and they both knew. 

Things between them wouldn’t change too much. Most days, they didn’t even think about it. But for the rest of their lives, every little _what are you doing, weirdo?_ and _when you use the word rabbi, you know that turns me on_ , every teasing glance and pointed glare, every joke rooted in nothing but friendly rivalry, every bet and competition and flirtatious exchange… 

Even if nobody else did…

They knew.

**Author's Note:**

> and canon ensues!
> 
> i'm just saying the way that they look at & interact with each other in early seasons with this subtext,,,,
> 
> it doesn't NOT make sense


End file.
